Fear of Socks!
by SeerBlack
Summary: Sam never used to be afraid of socks, until now. Oneshot!


It was one of _those_ nights. The Winchester boys had been up for hours, the muggy heat drowning them in their own sweat almost. They had each taken about three half-hour trips to the shower to douse themselves in the freezing water and still the heat would not relent. Sam looked up from his laptop to watch Dean who was busy collecting articles of clothing off the floor.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

Dean looked up from where he was dumping shirts into a basket. He rolled his eyes and stooped to place the basket on the nearest bed.

"What does it look like genius?"

Sam glared at Dean and returned his attention to the screen. Apparently (according to the new hunter database that had been set up) there were rumours of demons possessing personal items. He rolled his eyes; it was bad enough with Sheila. He swore he nearly saw Dean kiss the damn thing. He looked over to his rabbit and stroked it softly, not wanting to imagine what a demon possessed rabbit was like. He mused for a moment, putting it down to a Monty Python and the Holy Grail type re-enactment, 'cept Dean with a shotgun shooting poor Mr. Sunshine.

"Earth to Sam!"

Sam started and looked over to his brother, who was currently holding up a pair of Sam's boxers. Dean's face was contorted into a look of disgust.

"When was the last time you _cleaned_ these?!"

Sam stood up and snatched his boxers away from Dean, shoving them into the washing basket with the rest of Dean's junk. He stooped to pick up a sock and frowned.

"Dean, where'd my other sock go?"

Dean shrugged and walked over to Sam's laptop, checking out the website. He looked over to Sam when his younger brother swore and leapt away from the bed. He raised an eyebrow.

"Sam, what are you _doing_?"

"Dean!' Sam began to whine as he danced around the bed, looking like a six-foot tall ballet dancer. Dean resisted the urge to chuckle at his brother's antics. 'Dean! The sock keeps biting meeee!"

That however peaked Dean's interest and he walked over to where Sam was doing a few pirouettes. There was Sam's spotty sock, reared up at the toes like some wild animal, _growling_ at him. He jumped onto Sam's bed and squatted down, observing the new member of the demonic family. He gave a low whistle and grabbed a canister of salt from the nearby duffel. Sam had retreated to the other side of the room and was peering fearfully out from his hiding spot.

"C'mon Sam. It's a _sock._ Sure, a sock possessed by a demon, but still it's a sock!"

"It could still kill me."

"By what, _stinking_ you to death? Sam, get over here."

Sam carefully ambled over to Dean and leapt onto his bed, flinching when the sock gave another vehement hiss. Dean poured some salt onto it and it squealed in pain, trying to wriggle away from the offending sodium. Dean gave a laugh. Boy, some of the demons really did have it bad. He almost felt sorry for it. He looked over to his brother and put on a serious face, trying to hide his mirth at his brother's fear.

"Sam, how many times have I told you to put the laundry out before it gets corrupted?"

"Dean! Can you just exorcise the damn thing?"

"Sorry bro, I won't wash or _exorcise_ any of your laundry. And let me tell you, if your boxers get possessed you can do that one yourself."

"Deannn!" Sam was beginning to become frantic as the sock began to make its way over to his bed. Dean however seemed to find the whole thing incredibly amusing. He tossed his brother the can of salt and casually walked back over to the laptop to continue reading the site that his brother was looking at.

Sam glared at his brother's back and looked down at the sock. It was watching him, or at least appeared to watch him, with the toe section directly pointed at him. He fidgeted uncomfortably, he could handle the big baddies with the rest of 'em, but a possessed sock!? He sighed and jumped back as the sock lunged at him, wrapping itself around his neck. He gasped for air and began to roll around on the bed, struggling to remove the sock's grip on his throat.

"Dean!" he gasped. He couldn't believe that he was going to die. Death by sock, great. He could imagine his tomb stone now. R.I.P- Here lies Sam, forgot to do the laundry, died by a demonic sock. He snorted some of the precious air out and watched as the spots began to dance before his eyes.

Dean looked over to his brother and nearly swore. So apparently the socks first form of attack wasn't to stink his brother to death, but strangle him. His brother really had a thing for being strangled by demons. He walked over to the bed and picked up the salt canister, pouring if over the sock as it made Sam roll around on the bed. It squealed again and released its hold on Sam, retreating off the bed. Sam sat up, rubbing a hand on his throat and giving his brother an accusatory look.

"Took you long enough!"

Dean waved the salt at Sam, a glare on his face.

"Hey, I didn't have to come save your ass. Seriously, you can't handle a sock demon?"

Sam glared once more and grabbed their dad's journal from the bedside table, opening up one of the exorcism rituals and began to chant it. The sock let out an unsockly scream and collapsed to the ground, not moving as Sam finished it. Dean walked over and poked it, satisfied that it was no longer a threat. He picked it up and tossed it into his brother's lap.

"There, no more excuses for why you can't do the laundry. Now hurry up, I want something clean to wear once I get out of the shower… again!"

Sam rolled his eyes but quickly flicked the sock into the basket and allowed himself a small shudder. He was never going to look at his socks the same way again. Stupid laundry.

* * *

**DisclaimerI don't own Supernatural, as that belongs to Kripke. I was only borrowing them for my amusement.**

**A/N: Yes, possessed socks. I couldn't help myself. Random dribble, reviews appreciated!**


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